“Mmm, that feels good,” I moan as I arch my back from the feel of his tongue teasing me. He palms my other breast before pulling the straps off my shoulders and undoing the clasp at the back. With my breasts out on display, he brings his mouth back down over my nipple, biting it with his teeth and sending a shock of ecstasy through my body from the direct contact. My underwear is damp at this point, and when he helps me shimmy out of my jeans to see my matching thong, he spreads my legs even wider, running a finger along the wet cotton, a guttural sound escaping from his throat.
“You’re so wet, Luce,” he says as he leans in, kissing me while continuing to rub his finger along the outer fabric of my underwear. I’m aching for him, a desire so strong I can barely contain it. All I want is for him to move past thebarrier between us and douse the flame that keeps getting stronger and stronger. I want to feel him inside me. He knows it, and the wicked grin he sends my way when he pulls away for a moment is pure torment. “How badly do you want me to touch you, Luce?” he asks, his mouth pulling to one side while he patiently waits for my response.
“Very bad,” I whisper, spreading my legs even more for him and running my fingers along the waistline of my underwear, hoping he’ll take them off.
“Sayplease,” he grunts, tracing along the inside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere in its wake.
“Please, Dylan. Touch me,” I moan, and he finally moves my underwear to the side and pushes a finger deep inside me, curling it up at the knuckle as he does. I cry out from the feeling of it while he moves to my earlobe, nibbling it with his teeth before kissing down my neck and landing on my breast, taking it in his mouth, sucking and flicking my nipple with his tongue.
“That’s right, babe. Take my finger.” His voice is gravel as he drives in and out, causing my breath to hitch as I lean into him for support. He adds a second finger and presses his palm into my clit, the pressure so good I involuntarily rock my hips into it, desperately clawing toward the release I know is imminent.
When he adds a third finger and curls them all inside me, my whole body quivers as my orgasm courses through me. “I’m coming,” I cry, and he drives into me even more, mouth back on my nipple, coaxing me through it.
“That’s it, come all over my fingers, Luce. I’ve got you.”
I’m writhing as my legs try to close, but his solid stance holds them open. The ecstasy fades, and my breathing slows when he finally removes his fingers, tracing them up my stomach and chest, leaving a glistening trail of mypleasure. When he makes it up to my mouth, I part my lips for him, sucking everything off with a moan. Bending slightly at the knees, he swipes his tongue up the trail he made until he gets back to my open mouth, kissing me with a groan. “Fuck, your pussy is so sweet,” he says as he lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor beside where mine lies.
I move my hands to the top of his jeans, flicking the top button open and zipping down the fly, a smile growing as I spot the bulge behind his black boxers. Pushing his pants down, I grab him over his underwear, seizing his hard length and stroking up and down. He growls, gripping the edge of the counter on either side of me, and closes his eyes. “That feels good.”
“Good,” I reply as I push his boxers down, licking my lips as his throbbing cock reveals itself, precum already coming out from the head. I wrap my hand around him, stroking up and down, savouring each grunt and groan that escapes his mouth. “You like my hand on your cock, don’t you,” I tease as I rub the slit at the top before coming back down to the base of his shaft, squeezing as I go.
“Fuck. Yes, I do.” His voice is a whisper as he rubs his thumb over my nipple, my body squirming on the counter from his light, teasing touches. “I like it in your pussy more,” he says as he steps out of his jeans and boxers and pulls me right to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs as far back as they’ll go.
Licking his hand, he rubs it over my entrance, pushing two fingers in, working me back up before he pulls them out, leaving me empty for just a moment. Then he slowly drives his cock into me, inch by inch, watching as he sinks deeper and deeper into my pussy. “That’s it, love, take it all. Your tight pussy needs to stretch to take my cock.”
Once he sinks in fully, I arch my back even more anddrive my hips up, getting him in as deep as I can, pushing right into my wall. “Oh,” I cry out as he places one hand on the cupboard above me and one on my ass, cupping it so I can’t move backward. He drives into me, sliding in and out, and the feeling is so good I could black out. Having my legs open this wide, unable to close them, coupled with him so deep inside me, is enough for my orgasm to build in my lower belly. “Touch me, Dylan, please,” I beg. When his thumb finds my clit and draws small circles, that’s enough for me to fully let go.
My release pours through me as I scream his name, my whole body twitching but unable to move. He keeps his thumb on my clit and drives into me once more before he yells and starts to fill me up. His lower body jerks as he keeps pouring into me. Finally, both of our bodies still, and he leans closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“I love you, Luce.”
“I love you too, Dylan.”
He steps back before picking me up and wrapping me in his arms. Walking me upstairs, he turns on the shower, letting the hot water fill the small room with steam. We hop in together and wash each other clean, the scent of his soap all over my body. A scent I could never go without again. I’ve already stocked my apartment with Irish Spring, always wanting to smell like him.
After our shower, we head downstairs and eat the delicious tomato and prawn curry Dylan made for us. He reheats it on the stove, while I sit on the counter in just a T-shirt, legs crossed, watching him stir the dish on the stove.
We sit on the couch, curled up, and eat our dinner, going over our plan once more, making sure everything is ready for tomorrow. Afterward, we climb into bed, tangled up in each other, neither of us willing to move apart.Something about this being our last night has us both locked to each other; no amount of space tonight is okay. He kisses my forehead and runs his fingers along my back, drumming to a tune I don’t recognize, and finally, our breathing calms, and we fall asleep. Together. In the lighthouse.
For the last time.
Chapter Forty-Three
Iam a bundle of nerves this morning. As soon as I wake up, I look out the window, eyes on the sky, watching for any signs of the storm we know is coming. It’s overcast, but everything for now is calm. I nudge Dylan awake, and the smile he gives me as soon as his eyes open is enough to shatter me.
“G’morning, beautiful,” he says as he pulls me in for a kiss. “Are you ready for today?” His face is pensive, head tilting to the right as if to check in on me. It’s just like him to be the one making sure I’m okay. I’m sure he’s rattled with nerves but keeping them in check around me.
I hold my head high and tongue my cheek. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, trying to hide the quiver in my voice as I think of everything that’s going to take place today. Everything thatcouldbe. Everything thatshouldbe. That we bothwantit to be.
You can’t change the past, my dear.
I don’t need that today. We are going to do our damn best to change the past, Iris. I know she wants us to be successful. She’s just been trying to prepare me because ofeverything she’s gone through. The heartbreak she endured and is still reeling from, who knows how many years later.
I start off in the kitchen, brewing coffee, while Dylan lights a fire in the wood stove. While the upstairs was toasty from the fire, it’s cool enough down here that I can see my breath. I stole my favourite black hoodie from Dylan, and he threw a toque over his messy bed-head. As I’m pouring in the maple pecan creamer, his arms wrap around my waist, and I lean back into him, never taking a single second with him for granted.
“Ready for your coffee?” I ask, and he hums in response, his lips glued to the back of my head.
Finally, I turn and hand him his favourite chipped mug, and he smirks as he takes it in his hand. “I think you make a better cup of coffee than me now.”
